Let It Out
by GrayWolf555
Summary: Some nights, the demons get the best of Kakashi, and he is best left alone. This night, Sakura interrupts, finding a man she does not know, yet offers him solace in the most unexpected of ways. Lemon. Smut. It's dirty, y'all. Oneshot, with potential for future oneshots continuing the story. KakaSaku. If you don't like, don't read.


Kakashi sat on his tattered, worn out futon, arms spread wide across its ledge, head hanging dead backwards, his neck loose but strained as it sought to keep it from falling to the floor. His flak vest hung open, as its owner had wanted to remove it, but lacked follow-through. His headband had slid from his forehead hours before, the metallic clank it produced after meeting the hardwood didn't even cause the ninja to stir. Proof positive of his pervasive indifference rested on his coffee table: a neat line of drained sake containers. Absent from the arrangement was a cup, as he had medicated himself straight from the bottle. No need to be unduly ceremonious when alone in his apartment.

His surroundings didn't exactly call for formality, real or feigned. The apartment looked like a bare-bones show room model, caught after the carrying in of the furniture, but before the realtor added the personal effects, the flowers, the vases, the trinkets, to aid in misleading potential buyers that this was indeed a home instead of an artfully curated collection of dead trees. Aside from a dying plant and a pair of framed photos that offered little in the way of solace this evening, he was isolated from not only humans, but also any reminder that life existed outside his fading beige walls at all.

There were no lights on, but his windows were open, casting slinky slivers of moonlight over his empty floor, creeping over him to illuminate his less than flattering position. No matter. He was in the business of not being noticed, and like a true professional, he took his work home with him. His regret, his misery, his emptiness, they were for his eyes only. And that is how things would stay. His straw, brutally short, was drawn many moons ago, and acceptance came soon after, smooth and easy.

This confused people, or at least those he didn't know particularly well, which happened to be everyone. They saw a shinobi who was fiercely protective of his comrades, inferring that he was a man who lived for others. Kakashi most certainly lived for others, but those others were also dead. He did, however, continue to protect the living, not out of bravery, but as an instinctual penance, hoping that his good deeds could wash away his sins already accumulated. It was to no avail. Glory fades, but his sins had stained. And if he ever found his greatest sins washing out, releasing him from his constrictive regret, he had a fresh stable of heinous acts to render him hellbound, all commemorated for eternity with an innocent swirl on his arm.

It was a wonder to him that anyone at all found his profession a noble one, let alone the unfettered admiration heaped on his ilk by the bulk of Konoha's civilian population. If they only knew the amount of blood that was spilled over petty political gamesmanship, reliance on faulty intel, or as a "necessary objective" for a plan that would soon be abandoned, they would lock up every ANBU member, past and present, and forego throwing away the key in lieu of melting it to a formless puddle, just to be certain. And plenty of that blood was on his hands.

These dark thoughts were why Kakashi had drank himself into a heap this evening. Not that the alcohol stopped them; the thoughts were as much a part of Kakashi as his mask, his scar, his wild silver hair. Drunk or sober, they stayed with him, followed him, haunted him. No, he drank because it was the only way to placate his anger. Late at night, in the dark, all by himself, he would get mad. Terrifyingly so. It wasn't a focused or direct anger. Just a shotgun blast of rage at the world for its unabashed cruelty in stealing everyone he held dear, and doing so in such brutal fashion. His loved ones were crushed, committed suicide, sacrificed to some bloodthirsty god, or ran through with his own unknowing hand. Yet still he walked, a ghost, helpless to save them, but not worth death's time. He was cursed to wander the world of the living, while his mind stayed firmly with the dead.

Once his anger would subside, he used to cry. The dangerous, infamous Copy Ninja, with his obscured face planted in the pages of every bingo book across the Great Nations, would erupt into big, flowing crocodile tears. It was unbecoming of a shinobi, to say the least. But when it happened, he didn't feel sad or upset. No, it was more of an emotional dump, exorcising the feelings he had spent the last month or so burying inside himself, releasing the mental beating he had endured from his own mind.

But sometime not that long ago, the crying had stopped. It was unnerving at first; the sobs always clearly signified he was nearing the end of his cycle of depression, of fear, of temporary insanity. When all the water had drained from his face, and he could not offer in tribute another drop to unsympathetic and disapproving gods who had long ago passed their judgment, he fall asleep. Immediately. Wherever he was. He had woken up on his kitchen floor or in his bathtub just as many times as he had found himself in his bed. As upsetting as the episodes would be, at least they had a firmly established start and finish.

All semblance of finality of these emotions had vanished with his tears, however long ago that was. Now, he simply wallowed in a state of numbness, unfeeling and empty. His anger had poured out, but nothing filled him again, not even sadness. When this hollowness overtook him the first time, he considered grabbing a kunai and cutting himself, in hopes of sparking some, any reaction. Any sign of humanity, even blood, would serve as a reminder that he remained on this mortal coil; he had not joined his friends and family just yet. But even that proved impossible, as he lacked the energy to even grab the knife and press it to his skin. Cutting himself would take effort, a singularity of purpose that proved elusive to his empty vessel.

And so he sat, slung back on his futon, nothing more than an accessory, until he fell asleep or died. Right now, he did not know which fate would take him sooner.

Kakashi's eyes were shut, but sleep proved beyond his grasp, as he heard a knock. It sounded distant, ethereal, as if it were a dream. His body remained still. Then the knock again. It didn't bother him, as everything seemed so distant in his current state, and he had no intentions of investigating the noise. It would either continue or it wouldn't, and he would continue his drift into nothingness. All sounds converged into the same dark irrelevance, regardless of their means of creation.

A new sound. A creak, perhaps his door opening, or a floorboard betraying its age. Did he lock his door? It hardly mattered. While he never wanted a soul to see him in his sadness or rage hours before, he had passed the point of self-consciousness. Here he would remain, even if a crowd were to gather before him.

Another creak. Whoever this was, they were slow and tentative. That was probably for the best. He was not a welcoming host at the moment.

Then he heard it, a clear transmission through the static.

"Kakashi?"

His name was spoken in a soft and feminine voice, a hushed tone the retained a shrill undercurrent, curiosity laced with concern being the dominant notes. It was no longer a mystery who was now inching toward him. He would not respond. If unengaged, he could allow the sight before her to convey her unwelcomeness.

"What...What are you doing? Are you okay?" she whispered, voice cracking at the end, signaling her own understanding of the answer just as she finished the question.

Her pace quickened toward her former sensei, breath shortened and pulse racing as she tried to dispel her worst fears.

Kakashi could feel the presence hurtling toward him, yet it spurred no reaction. But when he felt a hand gently place itself on his neck, his own hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

Sakura couldn't snap away in time, and she flinched at the force with which he squeezed her. He wasn't trying to injure her, but his grasp was deadly serious.

As he held the girl's arm in front of him, his head raised up, showing a steely glare with mismatched eyes. They matched up to a pair of jade orbs, wide with confusion, and shimmering from the thin veil of moonlight falling upon her face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, gravely and methodical.

Clearly taken aback by his murderous stare and behavior, the girl stuttered before finding her words.

"Y-You...haven't been around the last f-few days. I was..."

The blank slate of his face did not flinch. Sakura had to pull her eyes away before she could finish, suddenly ashamed of herself for reasons she could not pinpoint.

"I was worried about you."

Kakashi released her hand, but his stoicism remained.

"There is nothing to worry about. You can leave." Stilted and monotone, as if he was reading a cue-card. And with no room for misinterpretation.

Sakura, despite her tentative body language, would not be so easily persuaded. It was obvious something was wrong, and normally she wouldn't pry. Kakashi was a closed-off man; it had been that way since the day she met him, and from what she had heard, long before that as well. But this was new. This was a different side of him, and it was unnerving her. Something was awry, and that something was dangerous. It chilled her to her core, and the prospect of leaving him alone with whatever demons currently possessing him posed too tragic a risk.

She steadied herself, and looked back at him.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

Kakashi stayed silent. He could see the defiance in her eyes, and he knew the look all too well. She did not understand what she was doing. He would not tolerate her games tonight. His nerves were frayed, his emotions raw, and his mind betraying him. He couldn't trust himself in this state, not even...not even with her.

"Sakura," he growled, and the ferocity of his tone made her jump, "Get out."

Straining hard to hide her creeping fear at the sea-change in him, she crossed her arms across her chest. Closed-off body language was her subconscious attempt at contradicting the open-hearted concern in her eyes.

"Kakashi... What's wrong? You're not...You're not acting like yourself."

Kakashi couldn't recognize the feeling pulsing through him. He had never had one of his...sessions interrupted before. His blood felt like it had just doubled in temperature, and suddenly he was on his feet, staring down into the girl's startled face, adrenaline pumping as he watched her back away, bumping the coffee table in the process.

"I'm not myself. Which is why you should go," he warned, his face inches from her own.

To his surprise, Sakura straightened herself up again, and did not seek to evade the stare burning into her face with a venom she didn't know the jounin was capable of. Even to the men he killed, his expression had always remained distant.

To Sakura, the whole experience was terrifying. She could barely recognize the man in front of her. His eyes were cold and brutal, his stare unwavering, and every movement screamed that violence was imminent. Yet as foreign as he seemed, she did know him. He was Kakashi, and whatever dam that had burst inside of him, she felt that it was her duty to plug. And she was right. If she didn't do it, who would? He was perpetually alone, and it was very much by design. She was the closest thing he had to a confidante, and while it still wasn't close to everything, she knew more about him than anyone else. No one else could break him free of the mental prison he had found himself in, and she'd be damned if she would let him become a casualty of his own self-loathing.

"I want to help."

"Get out."

"Kakashi..."

Her green eyes were misting over. Staring at her teacher, her captain, her...hell, she didn't know what he was anymore. He had always confounded her, but never as much as he had recently. Lines she assumed to be etched in stone were now blurry, out of focus. And strangely, Sakura found herself preferring it that way. But setting the complexity of their relationship aside, she knew she was looking at a broken man. She desperately wanted to find a way to put him together again, to bring back the person she had come to adore. Her lips pursed as she fought back emotion, feeling weak in contrast to his hardened gaze.

"Let me help you," she pleaded.

"Sakura!" he barked, "You want no part of this! Get out now, before..."

Their staring contest was coming to a head. She could sense a change in him. He was still a raging fire of tension, but it wasn't violence that was coming next. It was something different, and she was starting to put together the puzzle.

She cast her eyes down to his chest, and raised a hand up, grabbing a handful of his standard-issue sweater and twisting it in her fist.

"Kakashi..." she whispered, the fear excised from her voice.

"Let. Go." he ordered authoritatively, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching as soon as the words were formed.

She looked up and back into his eyes, the emptiness now consumed with dangerous fire.

"What do you need? I think...I can give it to you."

She felt him shudder at her words, but then he instantly tensed up again. His eyes were dark and deep, shielded from the moonlight. His arms were still at his sides, rigidly held in place, hands balled into tight, twitching fists.

"Sakura, this is your last chance..." he growled, tone foreboding, as she could almost hear his sanity shattering as he finished.

Her face was determined and heavy, no hint of a smile even with the action she was about to take. Her free hand reached out and touched his stomach, feeling the muscles contract on contact. She slid it up his body slowly, and she could hear the faint cracking of his knuckles as he clenched his fists even harder. Her fingers danced up his neck, and hooked around the edge of his mask. His only reaction was an uptick in breaths, as he watched her eyes with malicious intent, waiting for her next move.

"I think you should let it out."

"You don't know what you're saying."

She ignored him, and her delicate fingers slid his mask down without a hint of protest from the Copy Ninja. She leaned in and got up on her toes, bringing their cheeks almost to touch, and she whispered in his ear.

"I don't know what you're going through, but if it makes you feel better...just take it all out on me."

And then something in Kakashi snapped.

Before she could even think, Sakura felt two large, calloused hands grab her hips, fingers digging in firmly, and jerking her body away from his. A split-second later, his bare lips found hers, pressing hard, as he then yanked her flush against him.

His mouth did not linger on hers long, as it quickly found her earlobe, giving a few hard sucks before smashing against her neck. Instinctively, she rolled her head to the side, giving him more access to her sensitive area. He took full advantage, attacking her delicate skin with abandon, kissing, licking, biting from jaw to collarbone.

Sakura blinked hard, trying to take stock of the situation she now found herself in. Before she could conjure a proper thought, she felt Kakashi's hands slide under her shirt, rising and crossing over her back, one latching around her side, the other planted on her shoulder. She leaned back hard into his touch, spine arching, pressing her whole body into his toned torso.

He did not waste her position, as he moved from her neck to her upper chest, going after the pale skin left exposed by her tanktop. Sakura glanced down to see the crazy shock of silver hair moving around in a frantic dance, making sure no spot went unclaimed. She was feeling dizzy from how this escalated. Sure, she invited it, but she thought she would get a little warning. Still, the sensations sweeping her gave no room for complaints.

Kakashi yanked his hand down off her smooth skin to fall down and find the bottom of her top, which was ripped off in a frenzy. Sakura almost felt self-conscious, standing in front of her former teacher in her bra, but he never gave her the chance. Once exposed, he was on her again, this time latching on to her bare skin between her neck and shoulder, sucking on her, and then kissing, and then sucking again. He wanted to consume her, every inch, and make it his own.

Sakura followed his lead, tugging at his sweater. In a flash, he backed away and torn it off, the crash of skin on skin being the only indicator to her of what had just happened. She threw her arms around his neck, and held on for dear life.

Suddenly, the strong hands were on top of her shoulders, and before she realized it, she was spun around. One of his hands wrapped around her bare stomach, and the other found a home clamped on her throat. He wasn't squeezing or choking her, just a firm grasp letting her know who was in control of this encounter. Sakura almost laughed at the idea. She knew she was at his mercy; that was the goal of what she said to him. But the way he held her tight against him and wrapped his adept fingers around her neck... She was putty in his hands. Any semblance of rationality was gone, as she was solely made of blind lust now.

His lower hand drove further south, as she let out a soft whimper, muffled by his grip. She writhed against him, feeling for the first time the swelling underneath his thin flannel pants. She closed her eyes and felt his member against her, swaying her hips to feel it react to her body. While focused on the bulge pressed into her, he tore down her pajama pants, elastic waistband offering little in the way of resistance as they fell to her knees. He dug under her white cotton panties, rubbing the button atop her opening, causing Sakura to moan at the pulsating pleasure radiating from his firm touch.

Her panties were soaked now, as she dripped, wet and warm, begging for his next step. The hand around her neck jerked her head up, and he arched his neck down to kiss along her collarbone. Her hands, previously idle at her side, shot behind her back and started rubbing the firm length of her former sensei. She heard a groan rumble from behind her, and she smiled at the thought of her being able to bring him even a shred of the pleasure he was gifting upon her. Quickly, his lips began kissing her neck again, as she felt a finger plunge into her. She bucked hard at the welcome intrusion, smashing her body back against him as she spread her legs wider.

His finger sunk in hard, and then slid out, only to repeat the process. Before she knew it, another finger accompanied the first, and she felt her inner walls tighten against them. Her hands flew up over her head, driving her fingers into his messy hair and grabbing tight. He worked her insides deftly, and she could feel how drenched his hand was. As he pumped into her, she let out a shrill cry followed by a choked-off silence and she felt the orgasm rip up through her. Her whole body clenched, only to fall entirely slack a moment later, losing her balance and slumping back against him.

In a flash, his hands were gone from their previous spots, and planted on her hips. She found herself being tossed face first onto his futon. Immediately, there was a hand on the back of her neck, planting her face against the back cushion, and she could feel her panties being ripped down. With her dripping hole exposed, Kakashi used the same hand to yank down his pants and boxers. Sakura craned her neck around, cheek still flush against the mattress, to see him stroking away, readying himself for the act.

She then felt the tip of it prodding at her opening, only to sink in the second later. She let out a yelp, feeling her insides stretch to take him in, and felt a dull throb of pain at his size. He held himself there for a few seconds, allowing her body to adjust to him in a gesture of kindness she found surprising given his current state of mind. Slowly, she felt her muscles relaxing. And then, with one hand locked at the base of her neck and the other gripping her hip with serious strength, it began.

Sakura knew they couldn't call what they were doing "making love". Her face was slammed up against an upright futon mattress, pink hair splayed in all directions and a strong hand holding her head steady. She was bent over, backside in the air, with her panties and pants still pooled between her knees and ankles. Kakashi stood, stark naked, driving into her with a vengeance while fighting through ragged breaths. She could hear the slapping of flesh on wet flesh, and could feel him pushing deeper with every thrust. But it all felt so sinfully good. With every pump, a sharp wave of indescribable pleasure shot through her, and she found herself biting her bottom lip just so she wasn't moaning the entire time.

Kakashi lifted his hand from the back of her neck, only to snake around to the front, and yanked her up, pulling her back against his chest. He was now clutching her the way he had been when they were standing, hand on her throat and hand around her tight stomach. This changed the angle, and the sensation left Sakura delirious. She reached both her hands around and planted them on his moving hips, digging her nails in and assisting to guide him as he filled her.

His thrusts were getting reckless and out of tempo, as he let out a guttural sound while tensing up both hands. While she wasn't sure, she had a good guess what this meant. Please don't let it be ending yet, she thought.

He released his grip and slid out of her. Sakura turned around, still kneeling on the edge of the futon and faced him, eyes meeting for what felt like the first time. He was panting, and there was a look in his mismatched gaze that she couldn't place. It wasn't hard and aggressive like it was earlier. Suddenly, she felt very naked in front of him, which she mostly was, but she hadn't really thought about the ramifications until now. She shot her glance down to the floor, and bit her lip.

She felt a hand lift her chin up, and felt his lips press firmly against hers. And then his arms were around her again, lifting her up from her position to gently lay her down on her back. He straddled her, and started kissing her neck as he slid himself back into her opening. Sakura moaned, loving the feeling of him being back inside her, where he belonged. She ran her fingers up and down his sides as he worked in and out, pace slowly rising.

He stopped for a second and grabbed her wrists from each side, firmly placing them above her head. She pulled her legs up, freeing his hips, allowing him more room to move. His chest was off her now, chiseled upper body in full view. She stole a glance at where their bodies met, marveling at the sight of him conjoined with her. He started thrusting harder, and she whimpered at the shockwave he was launching through her.

"Harder..." she whispered.

He was pounding feverishly now, and she could feel his hands trembling against her own. She closed her eyes and let her head roll back, drinking in the shuddering pleasure of another orgasm tearing through her, punctuating it with a shrill cry. Kakashi let go of her wrists and moved his hands to each side of her stomach to steady himself. Despite feeling positively boneless, Sakura planted a hand on each side of his face, and ventured a look. Their eyes locked, and his breathing went erratic. His thrusts slowed a bit, going long and deep, hitting spots she didn't know she had. He was on the brink, she could tell, and offered a knowing smile, despite his obvious efforts to keep himself in check.

Sakura pulled his face close to hers.

"Just let it out," she said softly, too lost in the moment to try to sound sexy.

Kakashi's eyes went wide, as he drove deep into her and held himself there, letting out a throaty groan. She could feel him spasm as his warmth took up inside of her. With one last thrust, she felt the tension in his body release, and his naked body collapsed onto her own.

The pair laid in silence, Kakashi clutching her tight as Sakura delicately traced circles on his back.

He was the first to rouse, lifting his head out form the crook of her neck, and giving her a gentle kiss on her swollen lips.

Sakura returned her palms to each of his cheeks and lifted his head up, allowing her to gaze into his eyes. They were glossy with contentment and his eyelids carried their trademark droop.

"Kakashi..." she started.

"I'm okay," he replied, "I'm going to be okay."

Sakura nodded in response, but said nothing. His head dropped back down to its resting place between her head and shoulder. In seconds, he was asleep. She cast brilliant green eyes at the ceiling, slowly feeling clarity return to her mind. Silently, she cursed herself.

Why was it the broken ones she wanted?

Tracing her slender fingers across his back again, she felt raised skin interjecting along his otherwise smooth landscape. Scars. Those on the outer shell, no matter how numerous, paled in comparison to those she could not see or feel. Yet no matter how deep his proverbial wounds went, the man in her arms held an important distinction from the last shinobi that had possessed her heart.

This one was worth saving.


End file.
